Posted in poetry

NO RECOVERY

I thought my words were like emollient in your heart,

An arrester of your heart’s hubbubs,

The cream paints on your blank walls.


I thought your bland smile was proof my message had a soul

My confessions flowed like cascade,

I may have felt you saw my cues from the every tossing of your head

With your tress thrown back.

Vixen O my bobby-dazzler! Please don’t let you go.

If you go, I just may perish

Let me die a jailbird in your warm arms

Passion and deep passion of you remain my vices

To say I don’t cherish this kismet would be lies.


But you still loved another

My words came alive but you were dead to the letter

The walls whisper you mourn my tears with locked lips in your lover’s

My heart shreds to crumbs; I hear ravenous dogs now eat them.

Mr Obeezy

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Author:

My name is Okocha Obed, you can call me Obeezy. I love to display aesthetics through my ink—I must say writing is my small world. I consider myself a deep writer; I say I am deep because I have discovered that part about myself, even, my fabulous audience share same view. I believe in connecting to all kind of persons as there is always something to learn from everyone. I see myself as an actor; to stay on the stage, I need to think ink. The voice is a reflection of myself and my conscience. I always felt I could be like superman while growing up. It was pretty ridiculous so all I did was dream of being a soldier. It was abortive. So I created a world where I could keep talking about the ills in my community but with other flavours to show I am growing into completeness. keep reading.

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